Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is Claire Gem. She’ll be talking about her grapevines.

Fruit of the Vine

By Claire Gem

At times my Italian heritage tells on me. I’ll admit it—I love wine. To Italians, wine is an integral part of our history, our tradition, and our culture. The country is one of the world’s leading producers of the stuff, so it’s not surprising that a great percentage of Italy’s soil is cultivated with grapevines.

But these climbing plants can do more than produce grapes.

When I decided to enclose our side yard for some seclusion from our somewhat busy street, my choice of fencing material surprised my husband.

“It will take years before the vines grow thick enough!” he said. “Why not just put up some privacy fence?”

“I want a natural fence. It will be worth the wait. This will be beautiful. And the vines will grow fast! Just you wait and see.”

Patiently, he helped me construct the L-shaped, lateral trellis, which consisted of four, 4 x 4 posts set in concrete, with three strands of heavy duty wire strung between. The six-foot height would provide the perfect amount of screen I was looking for.

Then I went online and ordered my vines: three varieties—red, and two kinds of white—simply because I couldn’t make up my mind. In the photos on the nursery website, the vines were thick and lush, the leaves bigger than my outspread hand, the grape clusters glistening with morning dew.

What I got in the mail two weeks later were three brown sticks, each about two feet long.

My son laughed at me as I carefully followed the planting instructions accompanying my dead-looking twigs.

But oh, how they did. By the end of the first summer, the vines had all but obscured the strands of wire between the posts. The following year, they grew furiously, crisscrossing and linking into an intricately woven tapestry.

In 2016, after two short years, the vines had not only cloaked the trellis we built, but were quickly threatening to take over the side of our house. This was the first year they yielded fruit—about a half-dozen clusters of tiny, tart grapes. But my goal had been accomplished: when the fat leaf buds opened into giant green fans, our little side yard was completely invisible from the street.

Last fall, I decided I wanted a real arbor—one that would allow the vines to continue spreading without consuming our home’s siding in the process. Also, I thought it would be nice to have some overhead shade during the heat of the day. Fortunately, with the help of a handyman neighbor and an indulgent husband, I now have my summer paradise.

In warm weather, we enjoy the beauty and seclusion of our secret garden. Birds flock to our space, helping themselves to some of the grapes when they visit. Even in winter, the vines are beautiful. The twisted, silvery bones sparkle with an icy mantle, and provide a wonderful backdrop for my lighted family of wire deer sculptures. They twinkle when draped with colored lights.

Now, it’s high summer. As I sit enjoying a glass of (what else?) crisp Pinot Grigio in the cool of the evening, I consider . . . There are so many grapes this year, why don’t I try my hand at making some homemade wine?

Wouldn’t my Italian daddy be proud?

About the Writer/Gardener

Claire Gem is a multi-published, award-winning author of six titles in the genres of contemporary romance, supernatural suspense, and women’s fiction. She also writes Author Resource guide books and presents seminars on writing craft and marketing.

Creating cross-genre fiction she calls “supernatural suspense,” Claire loves exploring the paranormal and the unexplained, and holds a certificate in Parapsychology from the Rhine Research Center of Duke University. Her latest release, Civil Hearts, is set in an abandoned antebellum home in rural Alabama, which is, of course, haunted.

A New York native, Claire has lived in five of the United States and held a variety of jobs, from waitress to bridal designer to research technician—but loves being an author best. She and her happily-ever-after hero, her husband of 39 years, now live in central Massachusetts.

Civil Hearts

by Claire Gem

He’s a sexy Southern gentleman–with epilepsy. She’s a widow scarred from her husband’s brain cancer. A Confederate soldier haunts her new home–and she’s a Yankee. Manhattan web designer Liv Larson yearns for big change. She has no family, and after all, she can work from anywhere. Why not throw a dart at the map? She heads out of the big city for the rural South and falls in love as soon as she arrives–with the Belle Bride, an abandoned antebellum mansion. Heath Barrow loves his country life, managing his antiques store in sleepy Camellia, Alabama. But he’s lonely, and his condition–epilepsy–makes life uncertain. It’s already cost him a marriage. A new medication and the new girl in town have his heart hopeful again. Sparks fly between them, but the first seizure Liv witnesses sends her into a tailspin. She watched her husband die that way . . . To make matters worse, Liv discovers she’s not living alone. Her challenge? Dealing with a Confederate soldier who clearly resents his Yankee roommate–even though he’s been dead for almost a hundred and fifty years.

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

I haven’t been much of a gardener this year due to a move, the loss of a family member, and the grit of everyday life, but with the help of my dog Maisey we’ve discovered a world of gardens around every corner in our new neighborhood.

Sometimes when I’m tired and I don’t think I can go on, her cold nose is upon me, nudging me to move. Sighing, I lace up my walking shoes and look into her soulful brown eyes. It’s as if she’s saying, “Come on, see the world with me. I’ll show you the way.” Then she barks and wags her tail, her rump dancing to a beat I don’t feel because I’m drained from creative endeavors, family demands, working full time, or gray skies that dampen my mood.

As I write this blog, she sleeps beneath my office window. Her soft snores hum along with the tap, tap, tap of the keyboard beneath my fingertips. Her soft sighs remind me of where we’ve been and her canine wisdom. Her antics prod me to get outdoors and smell the flowers. Whether we’re strolling along a quiet sidewalk or wandering through the park, we’re together. She’s got her sniffs and I’ve got mine.

Summer will come and go, but I know when Spring comes I’ll have roses, peonies, and lilacs to look forward to. Maisey and I will continue to take our walks together, and we’ll smell the blooms along the way. We’ll be a bit more settled and our new routines will have become habit. We’ll be back in the garden, side by side.

Marcel Proust said, “Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” In my case, it’s more than my family and the neighbors who’ve inspired me to get back into the garden. It’s my Maisey, rescue wonder dog. Most days I think she’s rescued me. She’s my charming gardener, who’s helped me to blossom.

About the writer/gardener:

Linda’s inspiration comes from her favorite authors and life itself. Her women’s fiction highlights characters that peel away outer layers of life to discover the heart of their dreams with some unexpected twists and turns along the way. Her writing integrates humor found in everyday situations, as well as touching moments that make readers connect with her characters.

Linda is a member of RWA, as well as the Greater Detroit Chapter of RWA and Capital City Writers Association in Lansing, Michigan. She’s a past finalist in the Booksellers’ Best Award and the Romance Reviews Readers’ Choice Award.

Linda has two grown sons, lives with her husband, and rescue dog in Royal Oak, Michigan. You can follow her on Twitter @LBradleyAuthor, Facebook, and http://www.lindabradleyauthor.com/.

Pedal

by Linda Bradley

Burdened by heartache, can a whisper from beyond give middle-aged Paula Murphy the courage to just pedal?

Coming back to her Bay View summer home in northern Michigan means more than planning picnics at the beach and working in her daughter-in-law’s bicycle shop. Her avoidance to embrace her grown son’s death isn’t the only tribulation weighing on this self-reliant social worker’s mind.

Reluctant to believe the unfathomable, Paula Murphy’s world is turned upside down when she’s reunited with the only man she’s ever loved.

Side note: I self-published this short-story. Tilly is a secondary character – the daughter-in-law mentioned in the blurb. She’s an avid gardener and knows her deceased husband is watching over when her dog brings her roses.

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is Ellie Gustafson, who will be sharing her gardening story and her newest book garden story, where the heroine, Linda, has an award-winning garden with an unexpected visitor. Welcome, Ellie!

Beginner garden

God planted a gardening seed in my soul–perhaps genetically. An aunt routinely won blue ribbons at the local flower show. When I showed interest in flowers, I was granted a small patch, perhaps two by three feet, to plant johnny jump ups and small marigolds. My tiny arrangements got only token ribbons, but I was hooked.

First rose garden

As a teenager, I fell in love with roses. I dug a bed, maybe 6 x 6, in the middle of the lawn and planted some beauties. It was, however, a bittersweet experience. My parents were not getting on, and the little picket fence my father provided for the bed was frowned on by my mother. I didn’t know how to handle it, so after I left for college, the roses bit the dust.

Wedding flowers

Daughter Rachel planned an unusual wedding. The church was empty of flowers, with only a number of sheet-covered boxes up front. During the Pachelbel Canon processional, assorted friends carried in vased flowers and set them on boxes. Then came the wedding party, with Rachel carrying a large bouquet of just-picked flowers from my best-ever annual garden.

During the ceremony, one of the bridesmaids noted a spider exploring Rachel’s veil—making her spider-wed!

Shrinking gardens

As life went on, strength and energy dictated a slowdown of gardening. Today, after a frigid winter, even my beloved roses took a hit. The perennials are still there, but so are weeds. Thus, my focus has turned to………

Linda’s garden

Linda Jensen of Westchester County, New York, has a magnificent spread. She says, “I was born rich, and my parents loved flowers. My entire life centered on pulling weeds. My mother took me from the cradle and plunked me down with clear orders: ‘Pull this, but not this.’”

In one of her blogs, Linda focuses on weeds:

Go for a walk along a country road and search for plants we commonly call weeds. Note which ones like to hang out in your garden. Study them closely. They self-select their location, putting down roots in the most hospitable conditions. Your garden suits them well, and there they grow into sturdy little fellows that are neither fussy nor fragile—just happy to settle into your space. Dandelions, clover, assorted grasses—these guys are quick to flourish and tough to dislodge from our manicured beds.

What can we learn from these lowborn beauties? Maybe nothing. Maybe we just breathe in their simple charm and then go home and dutifully hold the hands of the elegant darlings we have chosen to showcase in our gardens. We pay a high price for our sort of beauty; weeds simply are.

Weeds simply are. We all must deal with weeds—in our gardens, in our lives. But a day is coming when weeds will be forever gone. Might we call Jesus the Good Gardener, as well as the Good Shepherd?

About the Writer/Gardener

Ellie Gustafson

*Born in a NJ county that had more cows than people.

*Went to Wheaton College IL.

*Married a multi-tasker, 3 kids, 8 grands.

*Tried on the cloak of writing; found it fit well.

*God first touched me through story, and he still speaks through story. I love Him passionately.

I write contemporary, literary fiction, and aside from the unpresentable theme of the novel, the heat level is pretty low. Heat, yes, but carefully contained.

An Unpresentable Glory

By Ellie Gustafson

“I trusted you, and some day, you may know just how much you hold in your hands.”

Linda Jensen leads a relatively quiet life in Westchester County, New York, as the owner of a highly-acclaimed garden. Inherited from her parents, the garden is her pride and joy. What is not so joyful is finding a strange man sprawled near her delphiniums! The mysterious man is sick, unable to do anything more than drink water—and beg for secrecy. Ignoring all alarm bells, Linda sees to his needs, but her caring act takes on unexpected significance, an unpresentable glory.

Seeds of trust, and perhaps love, are planted in Linda’s garden haven. But as secrets are revealed and scandal hits the headlines, the act of caring for this man threatens to tarnish both of their reputations. Like weeds in Linda’s garden, circumstances threaten to choke out their fledgling relationship, and small moments prove to be the biggest influencers—on a national scale.

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is Donna Schlachter with a garden devotional and some incredible flower pictures from Peru. Welcome, Donna!

A Writer’s Garden Designed by Another

By Donna Schlachter

I love gardens.

Or actually, I love flowers. And I could spend hours taking pictures of flowers. Everywhere I go, there are bound to be photos of plants and flowers and sometimes even insects and birds mixed in with my other landscape pictures that I take for setting inspiration, or jumbled in with the three museums I visited that day, or simply set off by themselves because that’s what I felt like doing.

Flowers make me happy. No matter if they are buds, or in full bloom, or torn by hail, or chewed by insects, or nibbled by deer, or droopy with heat, or ready to be dead-headed—I am fascinated by the broad spectrum of designs and colors evident in creation.

I figure only a truly creative God could have come up with all those kinds of flowers and plants.

Recently my husband and I joined nine others from our church on a missions trip to Peru. While there, I took lots of pictures of flowers and other plants.

Some were breathtaking.

Some were extraordinary.

Some were weeds in the grass …

while others were trophy-winners.

All were created by the same God for a specific purpose. To feed a bird. To house a bug. To nourish the soil. To eat a pest.

Which reminds me of how creative and loving a God we serve. He designed all the beauty we see around us every day for a purpose. And He created you and me for a special purpose, too. He loved us and knew us before we were even conceived (Jeremiah 1:5). And not only did He know us, but He already had His plans for us, and He set us apart as special for His use.

Sometimes I have a difficult time imagining what God sees in me. I struggle with what His plans are for me. What His good plans for me might consist of.

But I trust His word. So I rest in His garden, enjoying His creativity, while I wait on Him.

About the Writer/Gardener

Donna lives in Denver with husband Patrick. She writes historical suspense under her own name, and contemporary suspense under her alter ego of Leeann Betts. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Sisters In Crime; facilitates a critique group, and teaches writing classes. Donna ghostwrites and edits, and judges in writing contests. She loves history and research, and travels extensively for both. Donna is represented by Terrie Wolf of AKA Literary Management. Connect with Donna at http://www.historythrutheages.wordpress.com/

Bouquet of Brides Romance Collection

Meet seven American women who were named for various flowers but struggle to bloom where God planted them. Can love help them grow to their full potential?

A rough-and-tumble cowgirl, “Cactus” Lil Duncan longs for true love, but is afraid to let down her prickly exterior when a city slicker from New York City, with less-than-honorable intentions, tries to win her heart and her hand.

You can find Bouquet of Brides Romance Collection, containing Donna’s novella A Prickly Affair, at Amazon

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is June Foster. June will be sharing her new garden, currently in progress, with us. Welcome, June!

A Work in Progress

My husband and I moved into our new house in January, months from the growing season in Cullman, Alabama. Now that it’s summer, we’ve worked hard to get a yard started. In reality, I should say, my husband has worked hard in planning the landscape and getting the plants into the ground. I helped with the fun part—the trips to the nursery to pick out which flowers and trees I love.

Regretfully in the front yard near the house, all the bushes the builder planted died, and the straw molded. So we redid the area. We added a fountain and bench, a covering of lava rock, stepping stones, a Chinese maple, an azalea plant, and some leafy green bushes. I’m exciting about sharing the before and after pictures.

My husband loves to create brick circles around the trees and mailbox. They look symmetrical and offer a great space to add flowers.

The backyard was a challenge. The land sloped up, and the vacant lots on either side were filled with weeds.

First we put up a privacy fence. Then we got a surprise. The fencing guys had to drill down at about four feet to cut through rock on one side so they could install the posts. Who knew what was only a few feet underground.

Now we had a fence and grass and nothing else. A blank slate. My husband envisioned a garden of sorts along the back fence filled with bushes, crape myrtle, and pots of flowers. The end result looks simple, but it represents hours of work.

Our yard so far is only a beginning. Landscaping can cost a lot, even when we’re doing much of it without help. So, we’ll be content with what we have now. Next spring I’d love to add another row along the back, to provide the tiered effect, which will require more bricks and many more plants. Too, I’d love to add lots more trees in the backyard and some in the front.

I don’t mind the wait. It gives us opportunity to dream and plan. Happy gardening, all.

About the Writer/Gardener

June Foster writes contemporary Christian romance appropriate for ages eighteen to ninety. She writes with a Christian worldview in each story where characters overcome obstacles in their lives through the Lord and His Word.

Though June hasn’t done a lot of gardening through the years, working on the yard in her new house has kindled that interest.

Though Jess Colton gave his life to the Lord, he held onto an old habit. Fueled by alcohol, he spent a night with a girl from his past, defying his Christian principles. When he quit drinking to honor God, he discovered another addiction. Now he can’t manage his own life as his weight soars and diabetes threatens to claim him. Jess is baffled when the beautiful Holly Harrison declares her love.

Holly Harrison lived to please herself. But everything caught up with her in one moment of time when a destructive motorcycle accident altered her life forever. Nowhere else to turn, she looked to God for answers. Now, she’s convinced no Christian man would be attracted to her. She doesn’t plan on falling in love with the handsome Jess Colton seeing past his bulk to the godly, tender man within. When Jess drives a wedge between them, she loses hope of a future together.

Can Holly overcome her handicap? Can Jess find control over his eating and his life? Only God has the answer.

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Memories are Part of a Gardens Treasure

Gardens never forget their gardeners past. Secrets are buried, and sometimes never unearthed, or trampled by someone who doesn’t understand or care about their significance. But the garden will speak its truths and tributes to those willing to listen.

The seventh anniversary of my father’s death was June 11, and I spent the entire month before tending his garden. For as long as I can remember, I’d followed Daddy around as he planted flowers and vegetables, fertilized rosebushes with dead fish he hadn’t used for bait, pruned trees and, trained vines. He dug a pond, and sculpted a waterfall out of stones he’d gathered. Over the years we had fish, turtles, and frogs in that pond. And when my parents moved to a house with a bigger yard years later, he dug Three Bridges Pond by hand. Unfortunately it was filled in after his death, partially because I think my mother couldn’t cope with seeing it there without him puttering around. During his final years, without maintenance, the garden was neglected as we all attended to him–and to my mother.

The empty pigeon coop now stores garden tools instead of his beloved birds. I love the feeling of touching the latches, as his hands once did.

And the handcrafted door with the half moon cut that fell off the hinges of his storage bin, along with a rickety Adirondack style garden planter, are now features in my garden, so I can feel close to him every day.

My Father’s Day gift to him every year is to make sure his garden is as beautiful as he would have made it. I took every stone from the waterfall he’d build for Three Bridges Pond and created borders for all the flower gardens. (image at top of post) I’ve weeded, pruned back, and planted new perennials. I’ve fertilized and mulched, and planted new borders along the driveway, daylilies, Hosta, and grasses along the roadway fence. I could hear him complaining about littering while I cleaned up debris tossed from passing cars. And he very clearly told me to “let it go, give your mother a break, and take care of her,” when, overcome with emotion, I sat down where the pond used to be and sobbed, telling him how sorry I was that it was gone–and that he was too.

About the Writer/Gardener

Carole Ann Moleti has been gardening since she was old enough to remember. She loves being surrounded by the sounds of nature, any body of water, fountains, and waterfalls. You can learn more about her at http://caroleannmoleti.com/

Carole Ann Moleti lives and works as a nurse-midwife in New York City, thus explaining her fascination with all things paranormal, urban fantasy, and space opera. Her nonfiction focuses on health care, politics, and women’s issues. But her first love is writing science fiction and fantasy because walking through walls is less painful than running into them.

Carole’s work has appeared in a variety of literary and speculative fiction venues Short stories set in the world of her novels are featured in several of the Ten Tales anthologies. The Unfinished Business Series: A Cape Cod Paranormal Romance is set near the beautiful beaches Brewster, Massachusetts.

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is author Amy Anguish who is talking about faith and carrots. Welcome, Amy.

Faith as Carrots

“Mommy, it’s hard to wait.” My three-year-old daughter leans over to look into our garden at least once a day and tells me something along those lines.

Yes. Waiting is hard. And gardening seems to come with its own special kind of waiting. Not only do you have to wait for the weather to cooperate, then you wait for a plant to grow, then bloom, then turn to fruit, then ripen. Is there anything more frustrating than staring at a green tomato in search of the slightest hint of red?

This year, we’re adding to our waiting exasperation. For the first time in years, we have a nice big sunny backyard, just perfect for planting and hopefully reaping a crop of veggies. When we were plotting in the spring what we might grow, we asked our daughter what she would like to plant.

“Carrots.”

Have you ever grown carrots? I had not. I knew a little bit about them, but honestly, the thought scared me. How do you grow something you can’t see growing?

However, Easter morning, in her basket, there was a packet of carrot seeds, and they have been planted in her own little corner of the garden with the hopes of getting to eat at least one in a few more weeks.

Slowly, but surely, those little green sprouts are popping up, hinting at something underneath. How big are they? Are they even growing the way we want or is it just a little scraggly root holding down the frilly green top? Is anything eating them under there before we can pull them up for our own table?

See the tiny sprout?

It’s hard to wait.

But wait we must. And trust. After all, this is God’s design, whether it makes sense to us or not. In a few weeks, we’ll gently dig around one and see what’s been going on. Until then, we have to have faith.

Isn’t faith a bit strong of a word for something so simple as carrots? After all, a bag of them doesn’t cost that much at the grocery store. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if nothing came of this 50 cent package of seeds.

And yet, there’s something so satisfying in pulling something out of your garden, knowing your hard work helped produce something you can enjoy. And with the pleasure my three-year-old will surely get from it, that makes it all the sweeter for me. So, yes. I use a word as strong as faith.

I want to have faith not only that my plants are growing down as well as up. I need to apply that faith to all parts of my life. Because having faith in the unseen is always harder … but it also always reaps the best rewards.

2 Corinthians 4:17-18 says, “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

That’s definitely something worth having faith in. How about you? Do you have faith enough for carrots and other unseen things?

About the Gardener/Writer

Amy Anguish

Author of An Unexpected Legacy

Amy Anguish grew up a preacher’s kid, and in spite of having lived in seven different states that are all south of the Mason Dixon line, she is not a football fan. Currently, she resides in Tennessee with her husband, daughter, and son, and usually a cat or two. Amy graduated with a degree in English from Freed-Hardeman University and hopes in all her creative endeavors to glorify God, but especially in her writing. She wants her stories to show that while Christians face real struggles, it can still work out for good.

When Chad Manning introduces himself to Jessica Garcia at her favorite smoothie shop, it’s like he stepped out of one of her romance novels. But as she tentatively walks into a relationship with this man of her dreams, secrets from their past threaten to shatter their already fragile bond. Chad and Jessica must struggle to figure out if their relationship has a chance or if there is nothing between them but a love of smoothies.

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is Sally Brandle. She’ll be talking about the overgrown oasis she calls her garden.

Welcome, Sally.

Sunrise comes to the bottom of Sally’s garden

The best garden plants are those with stories. Many of my flowers are tender reminders of loved ones who have passed—whether they gave me the starts, or enjoyed sitting beside them on a shady patio.

A flat half-acre provides a palette. A sloped half-acre provides complications, back aches, and an attitude adjustment of perfection. Eight years ago I toted seventy or eighty wheel barrow loads of plants, slate, and stones from a home we’d lived in for fourteen years, to the new abode five houses away. We gained lakefront, and downsized by half. I write with a view of the top terrace of flowers and vegetables, trees, and lake—an inspiring and calming landscape. Bees and hummingbirds flit during summertime. Year round we enjoy bald eagles, cormorants, osprey, and countless birds. Neighbors on either side prefer manicured grass, we enjoy watching our feathered friends feast on seeds from the overgrown oasis I call my garden.

The four photos above present ground covers which mind their manners. Top left is Oxalis redwood sorrel, top right low orange ground cover. Bottom left is creeping thyme, bottom right Lilly of the Valley. I’ve waved a thankful farewell to homes with invasive plants: lemon balm, veronica, and the dreaded snow on the mountain. The aggressive battle continues on the below specimens. Left: Vinca minor, right two other aggressive plants.

This bush below blooms in time for Easter.

This plot of ground wore me out. At present, I hire a helper to do a big pruning/weeding session in the spring. None of my family picked up the gardening genes I received from my mom and grandfather. The next best thing was to create a character who provides plants to downtown Seattle skyscrapers for a living. Greenery became her ally in The Hitman’s Mistake.

I hope all your gardening projects provide joy and a sense of accomplishment. A master gardener visiting once told me, “A little bit of grass is okay, relax and enjoy the beautiful flowers.”

About the Writer/Gardener:

Growing up in a tightly knit, multi-generational community, Sally’s core values reflect those of the village where she was raised.

When she gets time away from her functional engineer husband and spirited sons, Sally hunkers down in her office. Her trusty Aussie, Tallulah, waits patiently at her feet for belly rubs as adventures unfold. For a head-clearing ride in fresh air, Sally saddles her Quarter Horse, Lance, and trots along wooded trails in the Pacific Northwest.

Sally holds a BA in Special Education from MSU and a Fine Arts Minor. She left a career as an industrial baking instructor so she could bring to life her stories of courageous women supporting one another, while they discover men who deserve their love. A member of Romance Writers of America, Greater Seattle RWA, Eastside RWA, and She Writes, Sally’s current series, Love Thrives in Emma Springs, is set in rural Montana. The first story, The Hitman’s Revenge, will be released by Soul Mate Publishing. Her newest series is Double Vision, romance with a scientific twist.

Warning: While there are no intimate scenes, Sally’s stories do contain sensual elements, mild swear words.

The Hitman’s Mistake

By Sally Brandle

She needs his trust. After Miranda Whitley stops crooked cops from assassinating a prominent Seattle judge, she’s next on the hit list, and her survival depends on the man she’s had one awkward encounter with—buff FBI Agent, Grant Morley. But can she find him in time?

He needs the truth. The last person Grant expects to discover on his annual horseback trip delivering supplies to a Montana mountain hermit is alluring Miranda Whitley, nearly dead from a bullet wound in her side. An accidental witness or the cold-blooded accomplice to would-be assassins?

Miranda must convince Grant of her innocence, evade the killers intent on preventing her testimony, and fight her unwanted attraction for the agent…an attraction which seems to be mutual. Fortunately, love thrives in Emma Springs. If you love sizzling chemistry, determined assassins, and Montana scenery, then you’ll love Sally Brandle’s galloping thriller.

The Hitman’s Mistake, a clean romantic suspense novel, will release on June 27th from Soul Mate Publishing. You can order the book at Amazon

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing gardens—aka their books.

Today’s guest is author Kathy Bryson and she has a garden mystery to share. Welcome, Kathy!

The Mystery of the Broken Birdbaths

By Kathy Bryson

Last year, I moved from Florida to Texas, giving up my garden for a new job and a cozy townhome in the Piney Woods. By the end of my first semester, I knew I’d make a mistake. Those stairs were killing me!

So after much house-hunting, I settled into a single story patio home and immediately returned to gardening. There’s just something about being able to dig in the dirt, even if it is with the excuse of ‘settling in.’ But one thing puzzled me. Who owned this house and why did she have so many broken birdbaths?

I know the owner was a woman and she had very nice taste. She had a lovely home, all cream carpets and walls, and she left behind a closet of high-end clothes from Dillard’s that the mother of a friend immediately claimed for church. She also left a number of landscapes on the walls and a shelf full of biographies, including ones on Hillary Clinton and Ann Richards. I imagine that she was an older woman with a love of travel, well-educated and refined, but the garden tells another tale.

The flower beds, both front and back, are lush with Mondo grass borders. This is a nicely contained decorative grass that isn’t an aggressive spreader and in the front, even manages to keep the St. Augustine grass at bay. But in the back, someone also added Monrovia or maiden grass that spread everywhere! Fortunately it comes up easily because I will be weeding it till kingdom come.

The grass had a lot to grow in which leads me to believe that the former owner was not a hands-on gardener. Mulch is piled 4 inches high on top of earth mounded to the top of the beds. A couple of bags were left lying unopened under some eucalyptus bushes that were starting to crowd the gutters. The myrtle trees were ringed with foot-high sprouts, and the flower beds to the side of the house have rocks on top of mulch on top of sand. Whoever worked that patio just followed directions.

There was also a profusion of broken bird baths – four of them, two without basins. And an abundance of statuary – painted rocks, owls, rabbits, St. Francis, a couple of tikis, and a stone garden bench – all different styles and none of them matching the elegant interior of the house.

Where did all this junk come from? Why would a lady of apparently cosmopolitan taste have such a mishmash of concrete? Did she have a secret liking for kitsch? Did she moonlight for the Mafia? Or is my imagination just running away with me again?

A coworker suggested that the birdbaths were probably gifts that multiplied after the lady happened to mention she’d like one. One basin became a gift to a student who used it to hold succulents at his wedding; another I kept. The rest are headed to Habitat for Humanity along with the bench. But as it turns out, one reason those bushes might not have been trimmed is there are cardinals nesting in them.

If anything, I’ll need to fill in the bare spots in the gardens. Can’t wait!

About the Gardener/Writer

When not speculating wildly about her neighbors, Kathy Bryson runs a college writing center in East Texas. She’d like to say she’s climbed tall mountains, rappelled off cliffs, and saved small children, but actually she tends to curl up and read, is a life-long advocate of Ben & Jerry’s, and caters to 2 spoiled cats. She can claim several awards for a series of leprechaun romances and to have saved a few term papers.

Today’s guest is Emma J. Lane, who will be talking about weeds—and their place in our gardens.

Environmental Rewards—Milkweed plants

A customer of our small plant nursery was wringing her hands over the wild bunnies munching her precious perennials. I had recommended to her several plants bound to repel those hungry cotton-tails, but to no avail. It was a mystery until I rode through her neighborhood of perfectly groomed lawns. Some sort of weed and feed had been liberally applied to the entire block. Deep emerald squares displayed throughout. Poor rabbits had no choice but to nibble her precious perennials. Not even their favorite food, actually.

milkweed in Emma’s yard

Every building lot presents owners a mini-environment in which to create the best interest of the current residents. At my house, I frequently reminded my better half, I was in the business of raising children, not grass, nor a perfect lawn. Dandelions, wild daisies, clover, and milkweed (horseshoe pits, badminton nets, fire pits, etc.) were all welcome and appreciated. Our yard was a playground for children, coincidentally welcome to available wildlife as well. Deer, rabbits, woodchucks, coyotes, fox, chipmunks, skunks, (ugh), etc have all visited at one time or another.

life cycle of a Monarch Butterfly

My present goal is to aid in the preservation and rebirth of abundant Monarch butterflies by trying to preserve their favorite and only food, milkweed. Research assures me there are many available varieties of this precious plant whose leaves feed the small green, yellow, and black Monarch caterpillar. Milkweed grows wild in the Northeast, has prominent leaves, tall stems, and highly fragrant blossoms. It also secretes a bitter milky substance that may irritate the skin, so not a favorite cut flower. A couple of varieties: swamp and regular are easily recognized in roadside colonies. The bitter sap of the leaves is repugnant to prey, consequently the caterpillar and butterfly protected as well. Many catalogs have available seeds. Check your local nurseries for plants. Shelter a milkweed plant; save a Monarch butterfly and enhance your personal corner of the world.

About the Gardener/Writer:

Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes under several pen-names. She lives with her patient husband on several acres outside a typical American village in Western New York. Her day job is working with flowers at her son’s plant nursery.